


Disorder

by orphan_account



Category: NSYNC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I have porn star moves," Lance said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disorder

"I have porn star moves," Lance said.

You had looked at him oddly when he had said that to you a few minutes ago, and had just shrugged the comment away.

"Chris, I'm serious."

And you believed him because Lance wanted you to believe. It turned out to be the truth though, and you were amazed when Lance just straddled you on your couch after coming from the bathroom. He slipped a condom on you quickly and eased himself on you, and your mouth went wide and open, an odd, hitched breath coming out. His muscular legs were like iron beside you. His cock hit your stomach every time he squatted down, and you saw the head leaking already. You pushed off the couch to recline a bit, and he grabbed your head in his hands and started laying small bites and kisses around your neck and jaw.

"Oh," was what you finally said. You thought you were brilliant, and maybe Lance did too, because he smirked at you.

"I was going for speechless," he said.

He was a sneaky bastard like that. He got you hard first by kissing the whorls of your ear with long, deliberate strokes. He knew your weak spots. He grabbed you through your pants and just started kneading through the fabric.

"I still don't get why you like this clothed sex thing," he said, his eyes glittering in the dusky light of your Japanese lamp with the rice paper lampshade. JC gave odd gifts. He knew the theme of your house would be wild bachelor, and he gave you a Japanese lamp that screamed angles and somber mood lighting. You're possibly gayer than you thought.

"I just think it's hot," you said. "And I think I might be gayer than I thought."

The way he looked at you was priceless.

"Chris, I'm on top of you, your dick's in me right now. How could you be gayer?" He rolled his hips, and then he started going up and down. Slowly. You felt every muscle in him clench tightly and you couldn't stop the gasp that escaped.

"I just thought of lamps and decorating."

"That fucking lamp." He went faster, up and down, his cock hitting your stomach faster and harder and you loved it, loved the sound it made and you started to thrust your hips, hard and good and uncomfortable and maybe even a little painful.

"It's pretty. Lay off the fucking lamp."

He braced himself against your shoulder, his hands a brand on your shoulders, even through the cotton T-shirt you wore. He was gloriously naked and you were still fully dressed; he just pulled out your cock through the zipper of your jeans and the little hole in your boxers. The pissing hole for lazy pissers, you thought, and you laughed out loud.

He looked at you, his stare piercing and surgical. He smiled, and it was the one you didn't like, his pre-orgasm face, when it looked like he was planning a murder. Then it hit him and he closed his eyes, raised them to the ceiling, looking like an obscene altar boy thanking who the fuck ever was up there.

Lance always has tons of spunk. Spurts and spurts of it, streaky-sticky, long white strands coating your green shirt, one hitting you near your mouth which you licked off as soon as it hit. He melted on top of you, but you're not done yet, and Lance knew that. It used to scare you, how Lance could be alert and thinking a few seconds after coming. He leaned back, his legs unbending beside you to straighten and you followed until you both landed on the floor, your hands behind his head to protect him. His legs curled around your waist. He shooed your hands off his head to lay his own hands behind his head as a pillow. He stared at you as you fucked him hard into the carpet. It was too late when you noticed the white cord of the lamp in one of his hands, and the expression on his face as he tugged the cord, his head jerking sideways as he clumsily pulled.

Lance was a nice guy and a good friend. You knew this and you were sure of it and you believed it, even at that moment, especially at that moment.

You closed your eyes. You didn't want to see his as you came. You heard paper rip and knew the room would be dark when you opened your eyes.

 

THE END


End file.
